


The Meaning of Flowers

by J_EnotsoLovely



Series: One Piece One Shots and Drabbles [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Caring Roronoa Zoro, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, Light Angst, M/M, Sanji Is Not A Vinsmoke, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:34:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_EnotsoLovely/pseuds/J_EnotsoLovely
Summary: Sanji stared in the mirror, noting the bags forming under his eyes and the trickle of blood on his lip.Mostly though, he noticed the red petal sticking to his cheek, blood keeping it pasted there like glue.He huffed.Roses? Seriously?The chef knew he was a romantic, maybe even to a fault, but couldn't his body have chosen something more original?
Relationships: Nami & Vinsmoke Sanji, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Series: One Piece One Shots and Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936849
Comments: 15
Kudos: 221





	The Meaning of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! If you've read my fic Tints and Pigments, I apologize. I seem to be going through a color phase xD
> 
> not beta'd

The first petal had been a bright orange. 

_Sanji could say with a fair amount of certainty that he hated the Strawhat's swordsman. He was arrogant, rude, and blunt to a fault. He was the type to slice tact in half before it even had the chance to slap him in the face._

_The chef could tell, that Roronoa Zoro was the kind of man that would one day carelessly lose his life._

_And for reasons he couldn't place, that thought saddened him. He supposed it was because of the idiotic, yet charming rubber boy, who blasted a cannonball into the side of his restaurant. Anyone could tell that the two were close, bound as closely as family even. And from what he'd overheard, they'd been traveling together the longest, though not for a long time._

_Sanji studied the green-haired arrogant, swordsman from afar._

_He wondered what the two had been through to create a bond that deep, that fast._

_Following the thought, the blonde felt a tickle in his throat and figured it was his body's response to a lack of a cigarette break._

_Even after smoking, the sensation wouldn't vanish._

_But then Don Creige arrived, trashing the Baratie and attempting a coupe and Sanji forgot all about it._

_-_

_What the fuck?_

_He knew the bastard wasn't going to make it to his thirties, but that he didn't think that meant the marimo would lie later that DAY._

_Dracule Mihawk. A motherfucking Warlord._

_Who'd just chased down over 50 fleets because he was bored and wanted entertainment._

_And he'd just slashed all their ships in half, while sitting on a goddamn RAFT?_

_Who the fuck did that?_

The man even placed candles on the corner as if mourning soon to be deaths.

_And Zoro wanted to face down this man._

_Sanji felt his throat tighten._

_He watched the battle progress and realized that he couldn't bear to watch this dumb fucking green marimo headed teen die._

_"JUST GIVE UP ON YOUR AMBITIONS!" He yelled, so loud it made his words fade into a hoarse whisper._

_Instead, Roronoa Zoro allowed himself to be sliced in half, and then declared his life to becoming the World's Strongest Swordsman, so that he could be of use to the Pirate King._

_Sanji slid to the floor and hacked, the pressure of everything beginning to push him down._

_The first petal had been bright orange._

_It was a sign of his fascination._

It hadn't been a problem, though he was sure that old man Zeff noticed. Still, he let Sanji go without a fight.

In a way, he was grateful.

Life on the Merry Go was lively to say the least. 

And with their travels came Arlong Park and the rush to save their would be navigator.

The next time he coughed up flowers, they had been yellow.

_Fuck if fighting Fishmen weren't hard as hell._

_Sanji was strong and he knew it. He was likely the strongest member in the rag tag pirate crew, with the exception of Luffy, who's build was disturbingly deceptive._

_He was loathe to admit it, but the damned swordsman was formidable, even wrecked as he was._

_"30 seconds. Thats how I can last." The swordsman muttered and Sanji found that even with the limited time, it felt unfathomable to doubt the bronze, blood soaked teen._

_Without hesitation, he jumped in the water._

_-_

_Maybe it was stupid to fight an enemy in their territory but it was that or let his captain drown and like hell was the blonde going to let that happen. He just got the captain for crying out loud._

_But he was drowning, and it was his throat, instead of lungs that burned something fierce._

_Sanji was drowning and he didn't like that that._

_The chef decided that if he was going to succumb to the blue ocean, he might as well take the fish fucker with him._

_As he blew air into the gills, he watched petals swirl off into the water._

_They floated towards the surface, and as light hit them, he could tell they were yellow._

_A bright, happy yellow._

_The ends were dipped in red._

_Admiration, and a budding friendship._

_-_

After defeating Arlong, he started a cookbook. Simple, easy to make recipes. 

He wasn't sure how long he'd be alive. He just hoped Zoro didn't give him any more reasons to fall in love.

Of course it couldn't that simple. 

_"You fought how many men by yourself??" Sanji questioned, not quite able to keep his awe in check._

_"About a hundred, give or take." The swordsman responded blankly, not bothering to glance up as he sharpened his katana. "A hundred and one if you count Luffy."_

_"Luffy???" The chef exclaimed, and then flushed when Zoro shot him the sexiest smirk he'd ever seen. The was setting and the reddish glare cast a warm hue on the teen's tan skin._

_"Yeah, he was convinced I beat up those guys because they didn't make food that I liked. As if." The green-headed teen scoffed, oblivious to Sanji's attempt at keeping the petals at bay. Then he fixed the blonde with a scrutinizing look. "Hey cook. You're strong. Let's spar sometime, okay?"_

_Sanji threw up on Zoro, the petals scattering._

_They were the prettiest shade of coral he'd ever seen._

_Desire._

_-_

Sanji stared in the mirror, noting the bags forming under his eyes and the trickle of red on his lip.

Mostly though, he noticed the red petal sticking to his cheek, blood keeping it pasted there like glue.

He huffed.

Roses? Seriously?

The chef knew he was a romantic, maybe even to a fault, but couldn't his body have chosen something more original?

Zoro had taken it all surprisingly well, not seeming the least bit put off, and if anything, was showing more concern than normal. 

After they acquired their ~~emergency meat~~ \-- _doctor--_ the swordsman had insisted he get checked. 

Somehow, between the two of them, the managed to convince the kid to keep it under wraps. 

Chopper threatened him with a glare and a poked-out bottom lip. 

It worked better than any intimidation tactic. 

-

His chest was beginning to hurt.

It tightened each time he passed the swordsman.

Each time they exchanged words, the flowers rose, threatening to suffocate him.

The smoking helped.

The smoking helped a lot.

And once more, Sanji was indebted to the death sticks, his salvation indeed. 

They curled around the root, poisoning them, weakening the flowers, and preventing their growth. 

It was ironic.

The same cigarettes that were killing him, were now buying him time.

-

He didn't know when or why he'd started to do this. 

Just that he had.

A part of him wanted wanted to show Robin. He had a feeling she'd see the beauty in something as morbid as this.

A field of flowers, each coated in his very own blood.

He had no clue why he kept them, just that for some reason, he couldn't part with it.

So he placed them in a box and hid them under a loose plank in the galley and at night he'd scatter them across the floors.

He'd open the curtains and let moonlight filter in.

Then he'd begin to dance.

Slow, nothing more than a sway as he hummed a quiet tune, reminiscent of his late mother. 

"You do this every night. Any reason why?"

Sanji jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion. 

Zoro stood at the door, leaning to the side casually, nothing but the green of his hair glowing in the dark.

The chef didn't want to fight. Not now, so he chose to answer, speaking carefully.

"It helps me feel whole."

There was silence.

"Cook." The swordsman started, and the word came out choked. Through the shadows, he thought he could see the tan teen clench his fist. "This person...that you're letting yourself die for. Do you really love them that much?"

"Yes." Sanji answered simply.

He watched in surprise as Zoro's shoulders slumped. "Oh. Okay."

Sanji though that if he did this, he might die afterwards. 

But he also thought that he wanted that sad expression off of the Marimo's face.

"Come here you neanderthal. And dance with me."

Maybe it was out of pity, but the swordsman put up no fight.

_His hands are warm._

The chef could feel their heat radiating through his pants, warm and comforting.

They swayed in a small circle, and he sighed contentedly when those strong arms pulled him in closer, until they were flushed against one another.

The two glided around the kitchen, silent aside from the occasional, "To the right Marimo. No, the _other_ right. Directionless moron." All the insults couldn't hide the undertone of affection, proven by Zoro's small huffs of laughter.

Sanji didn't know how many hours they stayed like that. 

He didn't care.

"Hey cook." The swordsman started and he hummed in response, nose buried in the crook of the green-heads neck. He wondered briefly why Zoro was so calm about their close proximity. 

"Cook." The swordsman repeated insistently, and the blonde raised his head, eyebrow going up in question. 

" _What_ , shitty idiot?"

Then those dark eyes were on him. A deep amber, boring into him. Ripping him apart and searching for something. 

"Would you, consider....loving..someone else?"

Sanji couldn't even be mad, because he knew the swordsman only meant to help, which at its core, warmed Sanji's heart.

Knowing the stoic Roronoa Zoro cared for a measly chef like himself.

"Zoro." He whispered, placing his hand on the tan teen's cheek, and held in a noise of contentment when the green head nuzzled into his palm. "You've seen how I am. Who would I love, that would love me back?"

And then the swordsman's face lit up a cherry red, bright even in the lowly illuminated room. 

"I would." The words were whispered and Sanji could only stare. "I would. I already do. Always have."

Sanji couldn't speak, but Zoro didn't wait for an answer, instead pulling the chef close and gently meshing their lips together.

He melted.

It felt like he didn't know how to breathe, how to _really_ breathe until this very moment. His fingers dug into the swordsman's hair, tugging him, closer, _closer,_ until there wasn't space anymore. He groaned softly, feeling tears prick at the edge of his eyes.

Zoro loved him.

Zoro loved _him._

Sanji Blackleg.

The blonde felt like whooping into the night. 

Instead he pushed back, separating himself from Zoro, who was gazing at him, pupils blown wide and desperation lurking in his eyes.

"Tell me it's me." The green-head pleaded. "Say that's it me. Please, _Sanji."_

His words were failing him. 

His words were worthless traitors, disappearing the moment they're needed.

Sanji didn't know what to say.

So instead he threw himself on Zoro, kissing with everything he had. 

They fell to the floor in a messy tangle of limbs.

"Yeah." Sanji replied, his happiness threatening to spill over. "It's you. Always has been. So don't ever make me suffer like that again."

Zoro glared up at him, though it lacked heat and the swordsman was failing miserably at suppressing a large smile. "I don't plan on it shit cook."

"Shut up and kiss me."

So Zoro did.

And the two boys laid there happily, in a meadow of bloody flowers.

The Merry Go sailed on, gliding silently through the calm sea.

On her figurehead sat a boy. It was a special boy with a special power. A boy who could stretch. Who grew up in the jungle and had senses keener than the average human.

This boy heard everything, but said nothing.

He just lowered his hat.

And smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> Please let me know your thoughts!!!


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